


Eurovision at 221b

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Series: The Odd Job [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eurovision, Eurovision Song Contest 2015, Johncroft, M/M, a bit of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4092412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John invites Sherlock, Mycroft and Greg to watch Eurovision 2015 with him.</p><p>This work is part of 'The Odd Job' universe - roughly 7-8 months after the end of the first part of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eurovision at 221b

When the invitation arrived, Greg didn’t want to believe it, at first. He was used to John calling him to get a pint now and then. He enjoyed hanging out with the doctor, who was easygoing and cheerful. They could both complain about Sherlock’s antics to each other and have a laugh at their strange daily lives together. But this came unexpected.

Hey Greg, care to join us for the Eurovision broadcast next Saturday? JW

This was definitely a first. Sure, they had celebrated the odd Christmas evening together. But never anything apart from that. And… Eurovision? What? Why? He thought he’d knew John. It couldn’t have been Sherlock’s idea, could it? Greg eyed his phone like trying to figure out a puzzle. But then he just let out a big sigh. Oh, what hell, he thought. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He’d take an evening with friends over sitting at home alone. Even if it was about the Eurovision Song Contest…

\---

When John had asked him, Sherlock first thought he’d made a joke. Why would he - Mr. I-Delete-Everything-That-Is-Unnecessary-From-My-Brain - be interested in feeding same organ with memories about badly dressed, embarrassing people? Wasn’t John aware that this was a more than senseless pastime? Well, John was the type of person to indulge in superfluous activities. Something about enjoyment. And he could see how much John seemed to look forward to an evening of… fun. So he agreed to participate.

\---

Mycroft grinned. John was apparently a mind reader. He didn’t think the doctor was interested much in the Eurovision Song Contest, but there he had gone and made it a small get-together with the people closest to him. Of course, Mycroft would never admit to having a secret fondness for this weird, traditional ritual of European culture. 

He had almost not dared to mention it in front of his lover - but John was a very perceptive man. The doctor had successfully deduced Mycroft’s unspoken wish and set up the whole thing as his idea. He had picked up more things from Sherlock in the last years than one would think. As Mycroft replied to his invitation with a positive answer, he smiled fondly at his phone. John continued to endear himself to the government official more and more each day.

\---

“Pass me the bottle?,” John asked Greg and pointed at the red wine on the other side of the table. The detective nodded and the bottle changed hands. He looked around while John was pouring some wine for all of them. It really was an odd group. If someone had told him this particular event would happen in the future, he would have laughed out loud and called the other person crazy. Not like he entirely believed it even now, while he was sitting in the middle of it. 

The sitting room of 221b had been repurposed into a small cinema. The armchairs had been dragged over to the small table in front of the couch, and the telly had been replaced by a much larger one - courtesy of Mycroft. The tabletop was full of alcohol and snacks. Someone had gone all out and prepared all the classics for the evening - even little skewered snacks of cheese and sausages. Greg strongly suspected Mrs. Hudson to be the culprit. She would probably never stop to pamper her favourite tenants.

That alone was a surprise. But had been even more surprised to find Sherlock’s older brother Mycroft in the flat when he arrived. And in just suit trousers and a shirt, even. He didn’t even think that proper, posh bloke could be removed from his three piece suits, like they were a second skin of some sort. The next surprise had come when John had offered him his armchair to sit in and Sherlock had taken a seat in his own. He watched the doctor and the scary older brother take a seat together on the sofa… and they were sitting entirely too close for simple acquaintances.

“Here’s to sixty years of the longest European war,” John said with a wink as he had handed out the glasses of red wine. “And to a nice evening.”

They toasted and all took a sip of the wine. Hmm, it wasn’t all that bad. Probably something Mycroft had brought along. It tasted too good for something John and Sherlock would have in their flat. Or maybe he did them injustice. He had to admit that it was currently very tidy and nice…

“Oh, nice job on the lights…,” John said as they were watching the opening ceremony.

“Hmph… It’s nothing special. They just move up and down on a string,” Sherlock said in disdain, trying to sound as bored as possible.

This earned him a frown from John, who shook his head slowly on top of that - indicating to the younger Holmes to behave himself for the duration of the show. Sherlock snorted, but actually turned his gaze back to the telly. Greg took a big sip of red wine. He hadn’t seen someone shut Sherlock up this quickly in a long time.

“Ah, Conchita,” Greg said to focus everyone’s attention back on the broadcast. “I sure hope she doesn’t repeat the song from last year. It was dreadful.”

“Well, she didn’t win because of the song, Greg,” John shrugged. “I wonder if it’ll be this weird and colorful again this year. I sure hope so. Haven’t watched the semi-finals at all, so I really can’t say…”

“It is all rather dull, I’m afraid,” Mycroft said silently, disappointment in his voice. “I mean, we can still expect a good show, but it felt awfully tame so far.”

John had to stifle a giggle as Sherlock’s and Greg’s head turned towards Mycroft in unison, staring at him for the comment. Sherlock’s eye flickered over his brother’s face for a few seconds, then he threw his head back in laughter.

“So this is why. Here I was starting to doubt John,” he grinned like the Cheshire cat. “When it was you all along. Should have deduced that earlier, really.”

“Oh, do shut up, Sherlock,” Mycroft huffed.

“Yes, shut it, genius,” John joined in. “We’re here to enjoy the evening, not ridicule each other’s tastes. I happen to enjoy the Eurovision, too, so my invitation is entirely justified.”

“Easy boys,” Greg held up a hand. “Can we just watch this now, and come back to the argument later? They really don’t do any large breaks between the songs, and if I’m going to sit through this all, I might as well listen to everything, so I can properly vote later.”

Now it was everyone else’s turn to turn their heads towards the DI. Sherlock gave a not very dignified huff.

“Oh, that’s brilliant. You all secretly watch this and enjoy it, though no one wants to admit it? Are you all twelve? What have I gotten myself into?”

Without any warning, the detective jumped up and left the area in direction of his bedroom. John wanted to raise up and follow him, but a gentle tug at his wrist held him back. He turned to see Mycroft smiling at him and shaking his head slowly.

“Let him be. He’ll be back. Let’s enjoy the show, shall we?”

John nodded and unconsciously leaned his head onto Mycroft’s shoulder as they both sank back into the sofa. Greg also leaned back in his chair, taking care not to stare at the incredible sight. It was hard to keep concentrating on the first song, which had just started, having the image of the posh iceman and the army doctor all but cuddling on the sofa. John had apparently assumed his current position without thinking, and Mycroft didn’t want to chase him away. Against all his beliefs, Greg had to smile inwardly, thinking about how cute they looked together, like that. Then a frown passed over his face. Did Sherlock know? He must, surely?

“They remembered the headphones, but forgot the violin,” Mycroft said as the song was almost over. “Wasn’t aware that they were allowed to change elements from the semi-finals to the finals.”

“So you really are the reason we’re all here?” Greg laughed. “Who would’ve thought…”

Mycroft let out a big sigh. “Guilty as charged, Detective Inspector.”

John looked into the DI’s direction and suddenly realised that his head was still leaning on Mycroft’s shoulder. He self-consciously righted himself up and fidgeted a little, which elicited another laugh from Greg.

“It’s alright, John,” he said in a bright tone of voice. “I guess I have already figured it out, and it’s all fine, believe me.”

“Oh… okay,” the doctor said slowly and blinked a few times. “I wasn’t sure…”

“It’s no surprise, if I may be frank,” Greg showed his signature smile. “I mean, I might’ve betted on the wrong Holmes…”

To everyone’s surprise, Mycroft immediately threw his arm around John and pressed himself closer in a gesture of defiance. John jumped a little and felt his ears turning hot. Greg couldn’t help but grin.

“Don’t worry, mate. As long as you’re happy, everything is alright in my book.”

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw Mark Gatiss' tweets about Eurovision, I thought it would be funny if Mycroft had tweeted them. I wanted to make the story longer and fit all tweets into it, but it felt like a good place to stop, even though only like two tweets made it into the story in the end. Hope you enjoy!


End file.
